Page 42 of Vile Bastards
I turn my attention to Bohnes.
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” I ask, and he thinks about it, really thinks about it. For several minutes actually which is so beyond infuriating that I could scream.
“Mm … okay, I suppose. But only for a minute.”
Scarlett looks up, monitoring us with that stern gaze of hers as we move to the warehouse doors, and Bohnes cracks them so that we can step outside and away from the building for privacy.
“This might sound hypocritical coming from me,” I start, and then I notice that Bohnes is truly setting a timer on his phone for sixty seconds. He looks up at me with that cool, blue gaze.
“Everything you say sounds hypocritical. Continue.” Bohnes gestures at me with a hand. “And hurry. Time is running short.”
I grit my teeth, but I need to get this out there.
“If we hand Alexei over to the mob, that solves quite a few of Scarlett’s problems. I might even be able to wipe her entirely from my father’s memory. She won’t have to worry about any of this anymore. When the time comes, I’ll take care of Jonas and his buddies. There’s plenty of corruption to sink them with; I just have to be careful about how I use it.”
“So your vote is to chuck the Borisov brat back to the Borisovs?” Bohnes queries. “He’s worth a lot of money, Kelly. But if I thought it’d be that easy, I might consider it. If we give Alexei to the mob, they’ll still kill us for what happened to their men that night. What we need to do is convince them that your father is behind all of this.” He points at my chest. “In which case, the mob will think you are behind all of this. Do you catch my drift? If one person has to be offered up on the sacrificial altar, it’s going to be you.”
I consider that.
It might be a two-part answer to a single problem: both me and Alexei in the hangman’s noose.
“I still think we should hand him over,” I start, pausing when I realize that Scarlett is standing there listening to us talk. She managed to get the jump on me, but I’m almost certain that Bohnes knew she was there.
“We’re not handing Alexei over to the mob,” she states, and I feel my blood pressure spiking. How dare she come out here just to defend him? Who is he to her anyway? They hardly know each other. “That’s not an option.”
“Why? Because you like him?” I scoff, but she doesn’t adjust her facial expression whatsoever.
“Yes, because I like him.” She says it without flinching. I want to throw something. “Besides, there have to be certain lines that can’t be crossed in order to make any sort of relationship work, even like the one between the four of you, one that extends to tolerance at best. We can’t be business partners if you’re constantly scheming and plotting against each other. I don’t know about you, rich boy, but there’s honor among thieves where I come from.”
“Do you think your crew can take on organized crime, Scarlett?” I’m not intending to sound patronizing, but that’s how it comes across. Scarlett reads it and curls her lip at me.
“Did the Americans wipe the floor with the British? Sure, we can.”
“American propaganda at best. I’m sure that’s not how it actually happened. Did you think that might bother me because I have an English accent?”
“It bothers me that you fuck hookers, but other than that, no, that isn’t what I intended. It’s called a metaphor, dipshit. Even my unlearned ass can tell you that.” Scarlett turns and starts back toward the warehouse as I move after her, catching her elbow as Bohnes watches silently from his spot beneath the tree.
“I didn’t say that I actually fucked them. I paid them to pretend to fuck me.”
Scarlett stares at me, and then hysterical laughter escapes her. She claps a palm over her lips and then slowly drops the hand to her side.
“I’ve heard some stories in my day, my friend. I mean, I have a girl in my crew whose boyfriend claimed the tied-off condom in his pocket was from a simple workplace masturbation session.” She pauses for emphasis. “During his shift as a doorman at the strip club.”
“Right. And I’m not that person. I’m …” I want to say different, but am I, really? “I’m playing Aspen’s part. What else am I supposed to do when my brother regularly screwed all the maids, spent his weekends with strippers, and then fucked your bestie for the remainder of the week?”
Shit.
As soon as I mention Lemon, I regret it.
“Can you look through her things for a sleeping bag?” Scarlett blurts, surprising me.
“A sleeping bag?” I ask, frowning at her.
